


Not Possible

by schwertlilie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Gen Fic, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal gets suspicious when an absurdly young "expert" is sent to authenticate some documents the white collar division has recovered. Set mid-season 1, no spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Possible

Peter was waiting when Neal returned after his lunch break.

Neal flicked a glance around the office, from the secret service-types outside the boardroom to Jones at the coffee maker. "What's the occasion?"

"The Smithsonian sent their presidential documents expert down to authenticate the Madison papers we recovered." Peter held up a hand. "Neal, I need you on your best behaviour."

He grinned. "I'm _always_ on my best behaviour, Peter. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Neal."

Well, it wouldn't be the first time Peter didn't believe him. "So those bodyguards here for him?"

"Yes. And no, I don't know why he ranks a detail, it's classified."

"So you looked."

Peter sighed, turned. "Be good."

Neal flipped his hat off as they entered the boardroom, and got his first impression of the entirely-too-young expert. He was like the poster-child for the all-American boy - tall, muscled, with blond hair and blue eyes and a Hollywood-bright grin. A well-loved bomber jacket was slung over the back of his chair, and yet another bodyguard stood in the corner.

Peter cleared his throat. "Neal, this is Alfred Jones. Mr. Jones, this is Neal Caffrey. He was instrumental in our recovery operation."

"Just Alfred, thanks." His handshake was firm, but he didn't try to test Neal's strength. It was almost refreshing. "Man, I never thought the guy who stole that portrait of Dolly Madison would help us get her husband's papers back."

He could _hear_ Peter raise an eyebrow.

" _Allegedly_ stole the portrait."

"Of course." He tipped an invisible hat. "Agent Burke, the documents?"

Cruz brought in the bankers' box and took a spot next to the door, while Alfred slipped a pair of white cotton gloves and a magnifying glass from his jacket pockets.

He clucked his tongue as he lifted the sheets of paper from the box. "Geez, I'd've thought a white collar crimes division would know better than to leave artefacts in a cardboard box."

Neal shot a triumphant look at Peter, who sent back a half shrug. "It was the best we had on hand."

"Huh. Oh, here we go." He stopped at a page, turned it over. Ran his magnifying along the edges; pulled out the next page, examined that. "If I remember correctly... There it is, the scribbles are right where they're supposed to be."

"Scribbles?" Peter leaned forward, and Neal took that as permission to peer over the kid's other shoulder.

"Yeah. One of his assistants mistook some letters for scrap paper, and doodled all over the backs of them."

The bodyguard shifted, and Neal glanced up to find her trying to hide a smile.

Alfred honest-to-god pouted - not a bad one, in Neal's estimation - and pointed at her. "It's not funny, Darlene. The poor guy had to erase all the drawings he'd done, and write lines all day about how he wouldn't use people's paper without checking ever again."

Neal looked down through the magnifying glass, and could just see the remaining grooves of a drawing - a bridge? - and the initials "AET."

"Must have been traumatic for it to be recorded," Peter said, mouth quirked.

"More like family history." He smiled at Neal. "And that's not the only thing I know about these papers, so don't go trying to copy them, either."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." He placed the papers back in the box, then stripped off his gloves. "Agent Burke, do you have the release forms ready?"

Cruz slid a file folder and a pen across the table. "Right here, sir."

"Awesome." He went through the pages, signing where Cruz pointed with extra-large initials. "No seriously, it's awesome that you're all ready to go here. Trying to get stuff out of OPR or the BAU is like pulling teeth." On the last page, he printed his name, then signed it, and Neal blinked.

And blinked again.

Alfred handed the folder to Peter, then shrugged on his jacket and picked up the box.

"You all right to carry that out yourself?" Peter asked. "We can ship it instead."

"Nah, I'm good. I've got Darlene, and Barry and Kim outside. They won't let me trip on anything on the way to my plane." He flashed a grin to the room. "Nice to meet y'all, and thanks for helping get James' papers back where they belong."

"Just doing our duty. Cruz, escort our guests to the lobby."

"Yes, sir. If you'll follow me?"

Neal stepped close to the table to let the bodyguard and the kid past, then turned to watch them leave the office. "Peter?" he asked once they were through the double doors.

He paused his shuffling through the release forms. "Yes?"

"How classified is he?"

"Alfred? Classified enough that he doesn't officially exist. Why?"

"You saw the initials on the letter?"

"AET."

" _AFJ._ Peter, he signs his name the same way the letter assistant did."

"Maybe he decided to imitate him. Certainly worships him enough."

"It shouldn't be possible."

"But it is. _Classified_ , Neal."

"But-"

"Come on." Peter shut the folder, extended his hand to the door. "We've got a briefing about diamond smuggling to prepare for, remember?"

Neal let Peter herd him out of the board room, and put the kid to the side of his mind. Maybe Mozzie'd be interested...


End file.
